


Every Girl at the Gym is In Love with Natasha Romanov

by yonder



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 24-hour gyms, F/F, POV Original Character, Pining, Thor is there a bit, lesbians love natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonder/pseuds/yonder
Summary: Prompt from Emma: "Black Widow works out and picks up mad chicks". Written in 2015.
Kudos: 8





	Every Girl at the Gym is In Love with Natasha Romanov

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Emma: "Black Widow works out and picks up mad chicks". Written in 2015.

Kate became a morning person, suddenly, last October. She told her friends that she now got up at six to hit the gym because she was trying to take charge of her health. She only told her best friends that she was shuffling her tousle-haired corpse out of bed at that ungodly hour because if she didn't make it to the gym then, she'd miss seeing that redhead.

The first time Kate went to the gym at six in the morning was on a whim. An energy-drink-fuelled all-nighter at work had left her emotionally exhausted but too twitchy to sleep. As she dragged herself home through streets already filling with early risers in business attire, she turned toward the lurid glow of the 24-hour gym on impulse. Nine at night was more her time, but a half-hour on the elliptical always calmed her mind and made her sleep better, so she figured she might as well.

The second, third, ninth, and eighty-second times Kate went to the gym at six, it was so she could grab the second treadmill from the left, the one facing the mirror. One of the gears on the treadmill squeaked and the buttons were sticky, but the mirror was the important part. The mirror allowed her to watch the free-weight area behind her, where that redhead now added another kilogram to each end of an already heavily-laden barbell.

Kate knew she was breathing a little too heavily for just a light jog, but a strand of that red hair had just escaped from the tight ponytail in which it had been confined. How was it so glossy, even in the sickly flourescent overhead lights? How did it wave so perfectly, without frizzing? It must be so soft, Kate thought. She wondered how it might feel to tuck the errant hair back, how it would run through her fingers like satin. How the cheek next to it would be warm and smooth.

*

Soraya had always prided herself on lifting heavy. As a kid she'd been muscular enough to defeat the boys in the battle for playground supremacy. When that got her sent home early one too many times, she'd turned her attention to beating the school record at shot put, and then beating it again in every subsequent year. It wasn't until college that she took up weightlifting in earnest, competing in state and then national competitions.

It sometimes irked Soraya that she now had to work out in this shitty twenty-four-hour chain place with the grunting broskis and yoga-evangelizing girls with their two-pound dumbbells, but that was the reality of city life. At least she had her headphones to tune them out. And she had Natasha.

Not that Natasha knew who Soraya was. Soraya only knew Natasha's name because it was embroidered on her gym bag, a faded, well-loved thing that looked like something a dancer would keep her ribbons and toe shoes in. But instead of toe shoes, Natasha just carried a pair of sneakers and her workout clothes. The clothes were black and form-fitting, which irked Soraya to no end, because Natasha had a perfect form for them to fit to.

Soraya just figured that Natasha was genetically gifted. It seemed impossible that she was able to lift nearly as much as Soraya could, while still seeming somehow delicate. Soraya's frustration grew as Natasha bent her knees, reaching down to get ready for her lift. It wasn't fair that her shoulders should look like that, or that the tiny muscles in her lower back should shift in such a perfect pattern. Soraya wanted to rest a hand on those pale forearms, feel the tendons flex beneath the skin as Natasha's hands gripped the barbell more tightly.

*

Leila took the graveyard shift at the front desk of the 24-hour gym because it was close to both home and school. The job was simple: Greet client. Swipe membership card. Offer reminder of discount for guests. Provide towel. Occasionally get up to wipe down a machine or empty the trash. It left her plenty of time to work on schoolwork.

She hadn't got much schoolwork done lately, and she blamed it all on Natasha Romanov, if that was really her name. For reasons Leila couldn't fathom, some fool at corporate headquarters had decided that front desk operators could have access to all client records for their location. She knew that the guy who had the afternoon shift liked to look up attractive clients' full names so that he could stalk them on Facebook, find their favorite movies and tv shows, and then drop subtle references within their hearing.

Leila had never been tempted to resort to such petty tricks, until Natasha Romanov became a regular. As a gym employee, she saw all kinds of regulars - the muscular hairy dudes, the treadmill girls, the wiry old ladies who came for the daily jazzercise. But there was nobody like Natasha. First, Natasha was both beautiful and cute, which Leila thought was totally unfair. Everyone could be one or the other, but both was just a shade too far. Second, Natasha always wore black - professional, tailored black, like she might be just a corporate lawyer, but could also be a corporate lawyer who moonlights as an international assassin.

Which brought Leila to reason number three. When she finally succumbed to the need to know more about her favorite red-headed client, she found... nothing. No Facebook, LinkedIn, or Twitter. No blog, no profile on a company website, not even poorly-digitized local newspaper articles about childhood dance recitals or chess team wins. Nothing. The credit card said Natasha Romanov, and so did the driver's license she'd shown when signing up. But as far as Leila could tell, the name Natasha Romanov only existed so this infuriatingly beautiful-and-cute woman could have a place to work out in the early mornings.

Leila watched over the top of the front desk as Natasha Romanov, or whoever, padded over to the free weight area and set down her bag. Even her workout clothes were perfectly black, which Leila thought made her hair glow, like a burning ember standing out against charcoal. What did she do when she wasn't here working out? Did she go to work at a normal job, with normal co-workers, where she did normal things? Did she have a boring normal partner who was too normal to notice that their girl's hair looked like a flaming halo against a black void?

Leila shook her head and forced herself to look away from where Natasha was stretching like a cat before her daily lift.

*

Everybody was distracted by Natasha Romanov's mere presence, and failed to notice when her cell phone buzzed. They watched longingly as she carefully placed her barbell back on the mat, and reached into her gym bag to take out her phone. She glanced at the screen, sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Then she looked up and scanned the room, making eye contact with those whose eyes she happened to catch. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, causing some gym-goers to blush bright pink, and said in a voice that gave them electric shocks in very private places:

"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!"

There was just enough time for the onlookers to process these words when the glass windows facing the street shattered. Kate lost her balance on the treadmill and fell on her face, Soraya dropped her barbell in shock, and Leila ducked behind the front desk. Nobody in the room failed to notice, however, when a huge blond man in some kind of ridiculous costume stepped through the broken window.

"Natasha! Did you get the message that I sent you on the cellular network?" the man boomed.

"Yes, Thor. You could have waited for me to come outside rather than causing all this property damage", she replied, bored, like this was somehow a regular occurrence.

"Well, we need to ride out! There's trouble, and we need you".

"Fine, fine!" she said, picking her way through the broken glass toward the blond man, jarring loose another strand of hair as she went. The man did not seem to notice the hair.

She stood close to him and he wrapped an arm around her waist. Throughout the gym, several pairs of eyes narrowed, though Natasha still just seemed bored.

"Let's go," she said, her strong hand gripping his ridiculous chest armor.

"Excellent!" he proclaimed. There was a crunch of fragmented plate glass, and they disappeared out the broken window, into the early morning sky.


End file.
